


Chrysalis

by Hephaestion (docholliday18)



Category: The Hunt for Red October (1990)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, No Dialogue, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docholliday18/pseuds/Hephaestion
Summary: A butterfly, he reflected with an ironic smile, had the equally hard work of breaking through its chrysalis before it could flutter free as one of America's most beloved creatures.  An insect, a group usually despised and reviled, yet this one was given a special place because of its astounding beauty and elegance.





	Chrysalis

**Author's Note:**

> The Hunt for Red October has always been a favorite movie of mine and Vasily Borodin one of my favorite characters. I absolutely hated that he died and this is my attempt to fix that "mistake". I truly believe he deserved better.
> 
> The relationship between Ramius and Borodin is, for me, one of the best, and most unappreciated, parts of this movie. The backbone that makes the whole thing work.
> 
> This can be seen as slash or strong platonic friendship.
> 
> Any comments, whether positive or negative, are always appreciated and loved!
> 
> Thank you for reading and enjoy!

Unbuttoning his thick fur coat, hardy beaver fur so unlike the fox and bear from his abandoned country, he wrapped it carefully over the back of an oak chair with the precision and care born of a life of service in the hard and unforgiving Soviet navy. His thick gloves and wool scarf followed it in similar fashion.

He was tired. More tired then he had been during his time as the navy's most senior captain and on the run from his own talented fleet. Assimilating into a new culture was work, hard work. So much to learn and understand, new freedoms to explore and new boundaries to discover.

A butterfly, he reflected with an ironic smile, had the equally hard work of breaking through its chrysalis before it could flutter free as one of America's most beloved creatures. An insect, a group usually despised and reviled, yet this one was given a special place because of its astounding beauty and elegance.

But, even before that could happen, the beautiful insect had to simply survive.

Survive as an egg to even be born, then avoid the hungry mouths of enemies lurking on the ground, in the air, in the trees and leaves, everywhere. Finally, through all this, the ugly caterpillar had to forage for itself, grow strong and round until finally it had to find a safe place to spin a womb of silk where its months of hard work would finally be rewarded as it emerged days later as a transformed life. To flutter away, find food, maybe love, and hopefully help create a new generation of courageous lives. It was a harsh but momentous journey that, if completed successfully, resulted in a triumph of beauty.

Ramius smiled wistfully to himself. At least he had made it out of the chrysalis, against all odds, and was spreading new wings in this strange new world.

But some almost had not.

He felt his pleased smile fade at the sobering thought . Carefully pulling off his shoes and placing them together under the chair he turned abruptly and made his way carefully through the small flat in search of the subject that had caused his thoughts to turn sober. No. Not flat, he reminded himself. Apartment, as the Americans called it.

The apartment was old and cramped, but with heat, and carpet, a luxury in Russia but common and expected here, although not altogether different from the ships he had occupied for the better part of half his life.

Striding down the narrow, barren hallway he paused briefly before the thin, plain wood door before slowly pushing it open, cringing slightly at the creak of old, unoiled hinges. Stepping in and closing the door behind him with care he turned to regard the dark room, waiting patiently for his eyes to adjust to the dim light.

His Vasily lay flat on his back in the single narrow bed, covers bunched about his slender waist, the pale skin of his upper body and face gleaming duly in the half light from the single shuttered window. Ramius paused a moment to watch, grateful for every rise and fall of the smooth chest, every slightly labored breath that broke the peaceful quiet. A butterfly almost killed just as it had struggled to break free from its confining cocoon.

Pushing off the door the former captain made his way carefully over to the bed before gently lifting the heavy blanket and smoothly slipping under it with the ease of long practice. He settled into the bed's welcoming warmth with a relieved sigh. Slipping one arm over his head while settling the other gently across his stomach, he watched with detached disinterest as it rose and fell with each one of his breaths. Breaths that, in many ways, he had no right to have save for the slumbering form now pressed lightly along his side.

A sleepy mumble broke him from his reverie and he caught his breath as the subject of his thoughts rolled sleepily towards him, instinctively seeking his warmth and protection even in the depths of sleep. Ramius lay still as Vasily slid a sleep-heavy arm about his waist and his dark head came to settle with innocent trust on his former captain's broad shoulder, his deep breaths ghosting with reassuring regulatory across Ramius' collarbone.

With an indulgent smile Ramius wrapped his arm around the familiar frame, pulled his former second closer. Absently, he rubbed his hand up and down the bare back, noting with a frown the unhealthy nobs and valleys of Vasily's spine and ribs, made prominent by his ordeal with a would be assassin's bullet and the long surgeries and recovery that had followed.

Ramius would never forget the feeling of unbelieving elation that had surged though him when Ryan had come to tell him that the man who was now resting so trustingly in his arms was alive, had in fact survived the bullet, the long hours of lying unattended on Red October's deck and, finally, the surgeries that had followed. He had maintained the cool detachment of a seasoned Soviet captain even as Ryan had brought him to Vasily's hospital room and he had laid glad eyes on the living, breathing form of his most faithful companion.

He had felt such a sense of vindication. He had left Russia and given her greatest enemy one of her greatest secrets because that corrupt and incompetent system had allowed his wife to needlessly die. And the American system of care that he knew could and would have saved his beloved Natalia had, indeed, saved a life just as precious to him.

It wasn't until the American doctors had released the still groggy and tired former starpom into his care, with a calendar of upcoming doctor's appointments, that he had allowed himself to show the deep emotion inside of his stalwart frame.

Pulling up to the small apartment he had slipped one arm under his now sleeping friend's shoulders and the other behind his knees and lifted the surprisingly light frame into his strong arms. Carrying Vasily into the American apartment, his head nestled peacefully on Ramius' shoulder, his body lax and trusting, had seemed like the fulfillment of all of his promises, a reward for his friend's faithful service and unwavering friendship and devotion. He had laid him tenderly upon this very bed, carefully undressed him then tucked the thick covers securely around the pale, thin frame. He had ran blunt, calloused fingers through the soft dark hair, tucking it carefully behind his friend's ear, then sat silently beside him on the bed simply studying the well-known face.

It certainly had not been the first time he'd watched Vasily sleep, not by far. But those previous moments had simply been notations on his friend's condition. How tired, how relaxed or tense, if a fever had broken. Although he had never minded watching over his friend, provided his many duties permitted it, rarely had he ever done so simply for the pleasure of it. Yet he had found that since Vasily had been returned to him those quiet moments of simply watching his friend sleep had felt like a gift, a privilege he had thought lost to him forever.

Suddenly, his caressing fingers found the complex network of scars that cross-crossed his friend's back like the detailed maps of the Reykjanes Ridge. Gently, he ran his fingers along their still hard ridges and pocks, remnants of the surgeries to remove the bullet intended for Ramius himself. Yes, Ramius had taken a bullet to the shoulder but it was a pittance compared to the bullet to the chest that his second had taken for him. A debt he could never repay to this devout, steadfast man lying so trustingly in his arms.

Leaning forward gently, he pressed his lips tenderly to the cool forehead. Leaning back, he lifted a hand and ran it though the dark hair, noting it had grown longer in this new county and decided that he liked it.

His Vasily. Who followed him into the unknown with blind trust. A caterpillar who went willingly into a confining and dangerous chrysalis, with the hope of emerging a beautiful butterfly. And Ramius was glad, so very glad, that he would. They would. Together. 

 

End


End file.
